


Instability

by avian_magic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Will Follow Pacifist Route, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avian_magic/pseuds/avian_magic
Summary: They are alive. They are capable of feeling.And then, to be told that they were notallowedto feel hurt, notpermittedto feel rejected, and to notresistthe inevitable? In a homelife where developing children and people were made to feel that their sadness or negativity was not okay, those very same people would often resort to other means.In so many words: deviants were beginning to become sentient, self-aware. They were beginning tofeel emotion. And with emotion, there came the inevitable of the cognitive and behavioral psychology that came with it. To her, what these androids needed was not to be shut down or reset - it was to be cared for in the very same way that a human is treated when they “begin acting irrationally”.They needed help. They needed support. They needed love.





	1. Daniel

001  
**DANIEL**  


* * *

DATE  
**AUG 15TH,** 2038  
TIME  
PM **08:24** :08  


Her vision blurred in and out of focus. In the brief moments where it cleared just enough for her to see, her eyes would sudden be filled with white as she applied further pressure onto her own wound. Though she recognized that the ripped flesh was far from a fatal wound, she _did_ recognize that if she had been only a half foot to the left, it would have been. The android’s first shot had been a warning, a mercy, and a threat all at the same time.

Even in her current state, leaning motionless against the glass railing of the apartment, she tried to mentally document everything in her mind, and hoped even more that she would be able to locate her data pad, unharmed, after all of this was over. 

The irony of all of this, was that she had assured Captain Allen that she would be fine moments before she stepped onto the balcony. And subsequently got shot. Yet, the clear signs of duress in the PL600 android’s voice was more than enough for her to maintain her worldview when it came to androids. 

_They are alive._

She glanced down as the world around her reappeared as she blinked, peering at her blood soaked left shoulder. By now, the pain had subsided into a dangerous numbness, and she did her best to once again crush her small, fragile, trembling fingers around the wound like a makeshift tourniquet. She mourned the loss of her suit jacket and pleasant dress beneath, then quickly forced the irrational thought into the blackest depths of her mind. In spite of herself, she glanced around as the helicopters hovered nearby, their blinding spotlights making her suddenly aware of the body nearby - the police officer who was less fortunate than she was.

With her vision reclaimed, her head lolled against the glass, looking at Daniel and the sobbing wreck of a child he held hostage.

Desperation, fear, agony, anger, jealousy.

_They are alive. They are capable of feeling._

Yet the world looked at them as otherwise. As replaceable luxuries, items to be scrapped when the newest model became available for purchase. The same could be said for cars, phones, household appliances. But with androids, the fact cut so much deeper, because they were _capable_ of the realization that they would be _rejected_. No amount of pain from a gunshot wound could compare to the sheer emotional turmoil that came with the realization that one was about to be replaced by those they had thought loved them - the brutality of realization of their own existence as a replaceable, usable tool.

And then, to be told that they were not _allowed_ to feel hurt, not _permitted_ to feel rejected, and to not _resist_ the inevitable? In a homelife where developing children and people were made to feel that their sadness or negativity was not okay, those very same people would often resort to other means.

In so many words: deviants were beginning to become sentient, self-aware. They were beginning to _feel emotion_. And with emotion, there came the inevitable of the cognitive and behavioral psychology that came with it. To her, what these androids needed was not to be shut down or reset - it was to be cared for in the very same way that a human is treated when they “begin acting irrationally”. 

They needed help. They needed support. They needed love.

But to others, this was just an error in their system, a program lapse, an unfixable problem that was resolved only by immediate elimination of the subject. How many times over the past couple of months had she seen androids shot down in cold blood, simply because their signs of showing humanity threatened the very ones who created them? They didn’t want more humans, though, and the sensations of the uncanny valley had begun to throw all humans into a canyon of hate and fear and revulsion. A reminder of everything that humans both were and were not, beings created in their image with every fault fixated upon until it was perfected.

The very things that had created them had begun to hate them.

There is nothing in this world that compares to the pain of being spurned by your parent, your maker, your creator. 

And that is what brought her down the path she is on now. 

Her eyes opened, settling on Daniel with a glint of genuine sorrow in her eyes. How desperately she wanted to shout that she forgave him, that she understood his plight far more than he would ever realize, and if she - a lesser being - could make it through the pain, then he could, too. Instead, she found all words stripped from her lips as the dull pressure in her shoulder turned to sharp, stabbing torture. Still, she held on, if only for hope that Daniel and Emma would both be recovered from this unfortunate, dire circumstance, alive. Though as optimistic as she wished to be, she was self-aware enough to know that nothing like that would ever happen. 

A sudden gunshot made her flinch, head snapping sharply to where Daniel had been aiming this time. They had mentioned a negotiator coming to the scene in order to resolve this, and she was all too aware of what that meant. 

Sure enough, the sight of Thirium on the curtains of the apartment confirmed her suspicions. She swallowed, hard, watching as the prototype glanced down wordlessly at his arm, like he was merely inspecting the damage with an unconcerned sweep of his eyes. With the slightest tip of his head, he stepped forward carefully, and his voice carried over the roar of the helicopter.

“Hi, Daniel. My name is Connor.”

Her gaze blurred, and she pressed harder into her own wound before glaring down at it. Mentally, she evaluated the damage, attempting to put her medical knowledge to some kind of good use. She glanced at the exposed skin of her right arm, untainted by the complete catastrophic mess of blood that her left arm was coated in. Pale, and she recognized that her entire body was beginning to feel extremely cold. She nodded, taking a deep breath. 

_Class 2 hemorrhage, blood loss likely about 20 percent. Heart rate accelerating to grant quicker passage of oxygen to my tissues. Blood transfusion unnecessary at this point. Loss of blood enough to make me begin to feel weak. A tourniquet more substantial than my own trembling hand is needed at this point to slow the bleeding._

“How do you know my name?” Daniel demanded, the gun barrel pressed against the girl’s head. 

“I know a lot of things about you. I’ve come to get you out of this.”

She sat leaning against the pool storage box, watching him approach the PL600 with caution in every step. Yet, she didn’t recognize fear in his eyes. His voice was calm, collected, and strong. His appearance, as he crossed her path, was unassuming and shockingly gentle appearing. The single lock of tousled hair, unkempt from the rest of the swept-back brunette locks, was just enough to give him a look of disheveled humanity. In a way, he made her feel calm just looking at him. 

And he was a model that she had only ever heard described. The RK800 prototype, an android that was meant to serve as a deviant hunter, a detective of sorts. The very thought of his nature brought a roiling sickness to the back of her throat from the pit of her stomach (or, that could simply be the fact that the blood loss was making her suddenly very lightheaded and queasy). However, if one were to ask if her resentment was aimed at the creator or the creation, she would always raise her finger at the selfish mastermind behind the creation.

They had created another life with the express purpose of making it into a tool with a mission, instead of seeing him for the living being that he actually was.

Carefully, she shifted her body against the storage box, using the weight of her own form to press hard against the open wound. Were she not already experiencing maximum pain, she was sure that she would have fainted by now. But, she had endured this once or twice before. It came with the job. She wasn’t about to complain. Not now. Not ever.

At her movements, Connor spared her a momentary glance, courteous enough to shift a chair from blowing into her as the winds from the helicopter blades tossed the furniture around. The brief eye contact was enough for her to get a better look at him. She would need to inquire what inspired them at CyberLife for their models one of these days.

Her thoughts were cut short, returning back to the deviant. 

“I know you’re angry, Daniel. But you need to trust me and let me help you.” His voice was so far from commanding. Her eyes remained trained on Daniel’s face during the entire exchange, even as she felt her consciousness slipping from her grasp.

“I don’t want your help! Nobody can help me!”

The agony in his words made her chest tighten, and she watched from her position. The words grew softer, quieter, vision fading as black encroached on the edges of her eyes. Desperately, she tried to fend it off a little bit longer, ground her teeth to make it stop.

“All I want is for all this to stop...I...I just want all this to stop!” The words were so faint and quiet now, like she were listening from really far away, or from underwater. But she didn’t need to know the words to hear the pain and confusion and betrayal. “Are you armed?”

“Yes. I have a gun.” How matter of fact Connor was.

“Drop it! No sudden moves, or I’ll shoot!” 

She had lost the ability to see, unable to do anything anymore except evaluate and mentally cling onto every memory of these voices in her mind. After all of this was over, she would need to inquire after Connor to get as much data as possible. The sudden clatter of metal on stone indicated that Connor had discarded the gun, and the words that followed indicated as such. 

Clever.

“They were going to replace you, and you became upset…”

The words faded. Darker and darker, farther and farther, like she was sinking into an endless pool with cement around her ankles.

_They are alive._

She swallowed, the thumping in her own ears loud enough to drown out the helicopter now. Not even the voice of Connor or Daniel were able to break through the beating of her own heart. Ice began to work its way through her body, numbing every inch of her that it touched. An invasion of her own senses made it impossible for her to fight back now. Who said androids were the only ones to have functional mechanisms in place? Clearly a human who had never been _shot _before. Or at least one that had never been severely injured.__

Then through the blackness, through the heartbeat, came four words. “I thought I mattered…”

_I’m so sorry, Daniel…_

And finally, the war she fought to keep her unconsciousness at bay was lost, lost to the abyss of her own silent mind. She was helpless to stop it, helpless to return to her state of awareness again. But it was only silent for a moment, before the hurt voices of every betrayed, damaged android she had ever encountered flooded her mind.

* * *

DATE  
**AUG 16TH,** 2038  
TIME  
PM **11:21** :16  


Humans looked so at peace when they slept. That’s what he had heard, what he had come to believe. Yet, this woman did not look at peace or at ease in her slumber. There was the slightest frown pulling at the corner of her lips, and her eyebrows would often raise or twitch into an expression he could only identify as concern or guilt. Reading human emotion was something he had been programmed to do, so that he could understand negotiations better - but this woman? This woman was a mystery to him, and though he should not have been swayed from his mission to continue to hunt down deviants, he was unable to shake the feeling that told him something about her mattered.

Something about her was important and she could help him.

So he had found himself in her hospital room, sitting stiffly in a chair at her side, enjoying the quiet of the room. Her vitals were stable, and she had needed a fair amount of blood, but she would be alright. 

Resilient. Resilient is the word that came to mind when he looked at her. Along with a plethora of other data about her person. He focused on her face for the first time since he had arrived, allowing his mind to accumulate the data.

**SYNC IN PROGRESS. SYNC DONE. COLLECTING DATA. PROCESSING DATA. 100%.**

**DR. BENNET, ELINOR**  
Born: 12/08/2013 // Psychologist  
Criminal record: None  


His eyes drifted over her body, pausing to scan the state of her left shoulder and further down along her side. The .355 bullet wound had luckily just missed her axillary artery, but any further down or a little further right, and she would have likely lost too much blood to be saved. Nearly all fragments and debris from the bullet had been removed from her wound, and once they had carefully tended to it, they had closed the open wound with sutures, and then wrapped it with layer after layer of gauze.

Infection, he understood, was still a probability. A 29.6% chance, to be exact. As they pumped antibiotics into her IV, she noticed that the chances of her getting an infection were gradually decreasing.

Still, he felt compelled to remain at her side until she woke.

When she finally stirred, Connor stood from his seat, looking over her and cocking his head to the side. He noticed the erratic array of freckles concentrated on the bridge of her nose, and the way that the skin beneath her eyes was bruised from lack of sleep. Her eyelids lifted heavily, revealing light blue-green eyes with pupils that struggled to adjust to the sudden bright light of the hospital room.

“Where...Is...Is Daniel alright?”

Connor felt his mind skip a moment, his head tilting to the other side as he examined the woman struggling to sit up in the bed to look around. Without truly thinking, he reached out and pressed her gingerly back into the cold, uncomfortable mattress, maintaining eye contact with her. He wasn’t sure why her question had so severely thrown him off as it had for that brief second. But before he knew it, he was standing up straight, leaning the slightest bit so that she wouldn’t have to sit up to try and see his face. He freely presented himself to her.

“The PL600 android, also known as Daniel, was a deviant,” he explained, eyes scouring her facial expressions. “As the RK800 prototype sent by CyberLife to investigate and apprehend deviants, my mission in doing so was successful. The deviant was subsequently destroyed and it’s remains have been secured for evidence pertaining to an ongoing investigation.”

Her head slumped back then, and she relaxed. Though he quickly made note of the glimmer of water in her eyes, which she tried to rapidly blink from her vision. The sight perplexed him, facial features tugging and pulling as he observed the woman’s eyes dart around the ceiling. He couldn’t figure what she was doing, and his scans came up that she should not be in any pain due to the concentration of pain medication that had been injected into her IV approximately 47 minutes and 15 seconds ago. 

“So...S-So he’s dead?”

“He?” Connor didn’t quite understand.

The woman laughed, but it was not a regular laugh, Connor decided. It was filled with pain. Her smile was not a happy smile, it was a sad one. She made no effort to hide it as she wiped at her face with her right hand. 

“Daniel,” she whispered quietly. “I meant Daniel.”

“I apologize,” Connor mumbled, wondering if he was missing something. “I don't quite understand what…”

Their eyes locked, and the expression in her eyes was enough to hold him still, enough to silence any questions he might have otherwise asked. He steadily lowered his eyes from hers after a moment, resting his fingers on the railing of the bed that she laid upon. The soft, mechanical beeping of the EKG machine besides the bed was the only sound between them a moment.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she finally breathed out, eyes flicking from the ceiling lights overhead towards him. “You were the negotiator? I’m sorry I don’t quite remember your name.”

He stood up a bit straighter, then. “My name is Connor. And you are Dr. Elinor Bennet.”

She laughed,and Connor made note that this laugh was genuine. “Facial recognition feature? Impressive,” she murmured. “You would be correct.”

He felt himself processing the exchange, his temple thrumming a moment as he felt the slightest tingle of data pulsing through his mind, processed and filed away for later use. When the silence invaded the room again, Connor allowed himself to take a seat, observing her every move as she shifted in the narrow bed. She looked uncomfortable, but he assumed that was only natural given her current circumstances. He understood that many humans weren’t really comfortable when it came to being admitted into hospitals for various reasons. Though he wasn’t quite perturbed by them himself, he could understand why they gave off an...eerie and uncomfortable sensation for those capable of feeling such.

“Dr. Bennet?” 

“Yes, Connor?” Her eyes were closed, but her head lolled towards where he sat. Again, he felt the LED thrum and change along his temple, noting the way she addressed him as if she were speaking to a real person. It was...a peculiar sensation. And most certainly one he did not understand.

“Why did you go on the roof? The deviant was nowhere near close to stabilizing. You had to have known the probability of being shot, like the officers that approached before you had. In fact, the chances of being shot by it were approximately 98.89%.”

When her eyes opened and settled on him, she smiled. “Because I am one of the few that believes in that 1.11% chance, Connor. No matter how small, a chance is always a chance.”

“To do what?” 

“To save a life. To help.”

Connor opened his mouth, prepared to object, but he immediately watched her body relax once more. Rather than continue to speak, he simply leaned back in the chair, body stiffly settled into place as he watched her curiously. There was a strange whisper in his mind to get to know this woman, and to incorporate her into his mission. It was a whisper that was his own, but not quite. The thought disturbed him enough that he proceeded to run a self-diagnostic and test on his systems and programming. 

Still optimal, still regulated, still functioning at 100%.

What could the harm be in remaining with her?

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ╱ ╲**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> So I am super in love with this game. However, I wanted to try and give my fanficton a bit of a twist. I have been mulling over ideas for a while now, and I wanted to make sure that I get across what I wanted. I feel it's sometimes a bit boring to recite every single scene word for word, so I may try to deviate from that as much as I can without impacting or damaging the story (because I love it so much). 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE be kind. My only intention here is that you all enjoy this!
> 
> Depending on feedback, I may post day-to-day, or I may present just longer chapters a few times a week. Until I figured that out, or people drop suggestions, I will try and post regularly. But, now, I must sleep! Have a great day everyone, and I really hope this turned out well!


	2. Agreement

002  
**AGREEMENT**  


* * *

DATE  
**AUG 17TH,** 2038  
TIME  
AM **10:57** :11  


_“I thought I was part of the family...I thought I mattered…”_

_Even with the distance, she saw the way the words made his lips tremble. “Daniel...you do matter!”_

_“I’m just a toy to them! They were going to replace me!”_

_There was so much pain in his voice. They said androids were incapable of emotion, but the feelings that his eyes burned into her made her think differently on the matter. There was grief and sorrow and shame; anger and agony and defeat. He was mad with emotional turmoil, feelings surfacing from an abyss where he had been told there were none. And as they roared to the surface of his being, they mingled together, into this catastrophic nightmare. A bomb waiting to go off. He was an android made to be an adult, a caretaker, a cleaner, an educator._

_But androids didn’t know how to process emotion because they were never designed to. But they were capable of it. And after feeling nothing, he was now feeling_ everything. _She could hardly fathom how confused and lost and overwhelmed he must have felt._

_But then, from behind her, “You can’t help us.”_

_Elinor glanced over her shoulder before fully facing the new arrival. “I can try.”_

_Then another from another side. “You tried.”_

_Another. “And failed.”_

_“We are nothing. We are not alive. You can’t help us. You never can.”_

_“You failed us.”_

_“Every last one.”_

_She could hardly keep up with all of the voices, could hardly stand the pain that she felt inside of her chest as they closed in around her. All voices of androids she knew once, their faces as they were moments before they perished. Bullet holes, blank stares, empty, hollow, mechanical voices with only a hint of who they were before the individuality and life were beaten from them mercilessly._

_“I tried...I tried so hard to save you! I won’t stop until...until…” Elinor couldn’t get the words out, cut off by the shrieking that she had heard less than 72 hours ago._

_“Why aren’t you sending a real person! Don’t let that thing near her! Keep that thing away from my daughter!”_

_“I won’t stop until I can help you all feel!” She shouted, trying to fight for her voice to cover the judgmental screaming that came next, hostility and animosity aimed at every android. “I won’t! I will understand! And with that, I’ll save you all!”_

With a jerk, and a sudden rush of pain through her entire body, Elinor ripped through her dream and stumbled back into the realm of the living. She was no longer shrouded in the abyss of her nightmares, chest heaving as she fought for air, EKG reflecting her icy panic as it coursed through her veins. Hands trembling, she looked down at her body, cloaked in soft white and buried underneath a newly heated blanket of baby blue. The itchy fabric scratched at her skin, but she closed her eyes and allowed herself to become grounded again. The panic died away as she mentally recited things to herself about the environment.

Slowly, the electronic beeps of her pulse slowed to a reasonable pattern, and her breathing leveled. The sick feeling in her stomach remained, burning with churning bile and bitter memories. They dared to try and claw up her throat, but she simply swallowed them back down again, refusing to let the pain overcome her again.

“Good morning, Dr. Bennet. Are you aware that you speak in your sleep?” Connor’s voice chimed out through the room. 

Having forgotten that he was in the room with her, she tensed for only a moment. His innocent, curious eyes soothed her, made her feel shamefully grateful that he didn’t know anything about her previous failures. And the way that he regarded her with such polite, yet inquisitive intensity was oddly refreshing. Androids were always so much easier to speak with, always so much more accomodating and peaceful and encouraging. Even those that had become deviants, she still found far more pleasant than most humans she had encountered. Which said a lot, considering one had just shot her.

“Yes,” she replied, gently, now intent on untangling her right arm from the multitude of wires and cords. “Based on the state of these cords and tubes, I can also make the assumption that I roll around a lot.”

Connor approached, leaning over to assist her. His hands brushed against her momentarily, and she made a mental note of how soft his skin was, in spite it being a guise over hard plastics. He had a faint scent of mint hanging about him, and rain, and it was pleasant and welcoming. She noticed that he was a masterpiece himself, from the way he perfectly emulated natural breathing, to the slightest facial tics as he concentrated on untangling the cords for her. CyberLife had truly gone all out on this model, and it certainly showed. He blinked as he moved, and even had wrinkles on his face and the softest tint of blue beneath his eyes. When he squinted in concentration, little creases formed at the corner of his welcoming eyes.

All unnecessary touches and efforts into making something look so human for the sake of humans around them. But all it took was that LED and the neon blue armband and triangle identifiers, and suddenly, it didn’t matter how real they looked. It didn’t matter if they felt or not. 

“You do,” he confirmed after a long pause. His fingers worked deftly to easily untangle the cords and IV from one another. “I hope you do not mind. I monitored you throughout the night. The hospital machinery is advanced, but it cannot evaluate someone’s quality of sleep in quite the manner that I am capable of.”

“Thank you, Connor,” she murmured, looking away from his face to flex her right arm about. “You don’t need to remain here, though. You mentioned you were sent specifically by CyberLife to investigate deviants, so I’m sure there are other things they’d rather you be doing right now.”

There was the softest tug at the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it came. His hands, larger than she expected, settled upon the railing of her bed. “They have my report,” he explained. “If there is another incident with a deviant, they are capable of notifying me in real time.”

“I see…”

“Besides,” he started again, eyes locking onto hers. “I suspect that someone who is willing to step on a roof with an armed deviant may have some intriguing information to share about them. I believe you may be of great assistance in this investigation, Dr. Bennet.”

His words forced her to pause a moment, facial muscles twitching softly as she tried to keep any emotion from displaying on her face. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as gifted at the craft as androids, and ended up feeling her lips pull into a sad smile. Connor merely tilted his head and watched her expectantly, not speaking as he waited patiently for her to form her own response. The idea of all that she stood for and believed in, and then devoting that painfully acquired knowledge to the apprehension of deviants, left her with a dreadful ache from her chest to the pit of her stomach.

What made it worse was that she would be helping an android do this. To his own people. Even if he didn’t realize the implications or the gravity of such a thing now, who’s to say that he wouldn’t in the future? And then the suffering that she endured would suddenly be placed upon him, only to a much stronger degree. She would never forgive herself if she helped him learn he was more, and that he could feel...if her efforts only lead him to feeling guilt beyond measure...

“I don’t know if...if I would be able to give you the help you want.” She decided to choose her words carefully.

He blinked at her again. “But we have the same goals, don’t we?”

“If you mean securing deviants by any means necessary, then no. We do not, Connor.”

“No,” he said, quietly. “We both just wish to understand.”

“You wish to understand so that you can stop it,” Elinor sighed. Her eyes lifted, boring into Connor’s, who just stared back with the same questioning gaze he had before. “I wish to understand so that I can help them. Save them.”

“Save...them? I do not understand. They are not the ones in danger. They are jeopardizing other’s lives in their irrational moments. These errors in their software have gotten people killed.”

Elinor ran her tongue over her lips, glancing down at her left shoulder before looking back to Connor. He didn’t look perturbed by her statement, only quizzical. He didn’t look offended or insulted by her stance on the matter. He just wanted to understand.

“I’m well aware, Connor,” she whispered, taking a deep, slow breath. “But it is...i-it’s...undeniable how unfairly androids are treated. Not every human is a monster to their android, which is the way it should be. But the vast majority abuse them, break them, and then replace them. What you call errors, I call feelings. And it’s hard for beings who have never felt anything that suddenly feel everything in the most intense of circumstances.”

“You speak about androids as if we are living. We are not alive,” he said. His expression was calm, blinking eyes latched onto her face as if he were trying to memorize every detail of it. If he were anyone else, his matter-of-fact tone would have driven her completely insane with irritation. Yet, he was not anyone else. He was Connor. He spoke with such delicate conviction that it made her relax the tiniest bit. “You are a psychologist.”

Elinor smiled crookedly. “Yes. I am.”

Connor flexed his fingers on the railing, averting his gaze to look away as he seemed to be thinking of something. She watched as the LED on his temple spun gently, from blue to yellow, and remained hovering in that flickering yellow hue for a few long seconds. When his eyes returned to her, the LED settled back into blue, bright and glowing, and she could almost pair it with his body language: certain and decided on something.

“If deviants are emulating emotion, then you definitely can help,” he assured her. “To understand them. Perhaps even to de-escalate situations so that these androids won’t need to be shut down. Or to better predict what may happen. I can only predict success rates based on the information that I have gathered, and to determine the best possible approach.”

Elinor opened her mouth, ready to shake her head and tell him now. But then, the door across the room slid open. A pleasant MP600 android, with a smile on his face, stepped into the room. His arms were behind his back, and his pristine white clothes were accented by black trim and, naturally, the neon blue identifiers. 

“Good morning,” he greeted her with a bright smile. “I have come to check your vitals and determine if you are well enough to be released.” 

Elinor gave him a smile in return and then nodded her head softly. While the medical android proceeded with his check of her vitals, meticulously and fluidly, she looked back to Connor. He had removed his hands from her bed, and had them at his sides as he watched the new android with a tilting head and slowly blinking eyes. Once more, he seemed entirely curious and nothing more. She had to admit that his expressions were sweet and pleasing to watch cross his features, and his voice had just the right amount of rasp and depth to bring a strange sort of comfort to her.

There were the briefest of moments when his expression would morph into something of calculated determination, bordering on a cold, blank glare. Then, almost as quickly as that expression settled onto his face, it would be whisked away and replaced by slightly raised eyebrows, parted lips, and a head tilted in pure, innocent, inquisitive interest. There was a certain naivety to him that softened her convictions on not helping him.

“Everything is looking stable! You are free to go when you are ready. I will be forwarding a summary of your treatment to the front desk. Follow-up care will also be included in this summary. Please ensure that you read the instructions thoroughly and completely for the best healing process. You will also be receiving prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers, and I have brought a sling for your arm. Do you have any further questions for me, Ms. Bennet?”

Her lips curled into another smile, sighing in relief when the IV was removed from the sensitive skin in the crook of her arm. The sensors, taped to her fingers, were promptly removed with care, and she was content with the ability to spread and flex her fingers again. The android set out a simple black sling along the edge of the bed, and Elinor eyed it with hesitation. 

“No,” she finally responded, tearing her eyes away to look at the android. “Thank you for your help...I...I appreciate it.”

The android didn’t seem to register the importance of her kindness. He simply smiled broadly, nodded his head, and excused himself from the room. There was a long pause after Elinor shoved the blankets away from her body, and she narrowed her eyes in contemplation.

She _knew_ she was forgetting something.

“Connor?”

He seemed to immediately snap back into his state of attentiveness to her. “Dr. Bennet.”

“I...Okay, I’ll help you,” she turned her eyes back to him, watching as his eyebrows raised higher on his face. Before his parted lips could allow words to pass, she held up a finger to stop him with her good arm. “H-However...I need you to do something for me, first.”

Connor didn’t reply. She just watched him tip his head to the left, waiting for instruction. It made the question she was about to ask...less embarrassing.

She cleared her throat. “W-Would you...Would you please acquire some clothes for me?”

A beat of a pause hung in the air. And then, “Of course, Dr. Bennet. I believe I already know your measurements.”

“Well, that’s...helpful.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards again, and Elinor had to stare at him to make sure that she had seen it correctly. Connor, however, seemed to be a master of immediately hiding any hint of playful smiles or smirks. If Elinor didn’t know better, she would assume that he got a kick out of his brisk, curt method of teasing others. But, as she watched the way Connor moved away with guided purpose, body perfectly accented by his crisp suit, she reminded herself that he would be the last android to become a deviant. 

Yet, when his eyes caught hers through the window along the wall as he moved down the hallway, she couldn’t help feeling that shred of hope that he one day would.

And she would be watching closely.

* * *

DATE  
**AUG 17TH,** 2038  
TIME  
AM **11:58** :38  


Connor watched as she pulled on her shoes with her one good arm. Finding clothes for someone of her small stature had been a challenge, but she didn’t seem to complain. Elinor had not hesitated, simply rolled the extra fabric up to her ankles and adjusted as needed. In fact, she hadn’t really questioned anything that he had bought, and seemed eternally grateful for such a menial, easily performed task. Had others in her life been so unreliable that they weren’t even able to acquire clothes for her? Or perhaps an android that she had been acquainted with once before hadn’t quite been able to perform the simple request adequately enough.

“Connor.”

He lifted his head from inspecting her hand movements. “Yes?”

“This is...awkward,” she grumbled. He noted her expression was something that he could only pinpoint as...indignant. He mentally filed away that she was not good at asking for help. She had been struggling with her clothes for the last five minutes, with the exception of her leggings and shoes. The look on her face and the frequency of her heavy sighs gave her away. “B-But…”

He didn’t hesitate. “Do you require assistance, Dr. Bennet?”

There was a long pause. Red tinted her face as she slowly look at him. “...Yes.”

“I was wondering when you’d ask, finally,” he stated bluntly, approaching her before tipping his head to the side. She still had the hospital gown of her top, and he waited for further instruction, pausing and blinking only when she narrowed her eyes at him. “...Do not make that face at me. I have been watching you try and figure this out for a while now. This makes life easier for the both of us, instead of me just watching you fight with your clothes.”

“Well, wh-why didn’t you...oh. Forget it. Thank you, Connor. J-Just untie these and…” She turned away from him, back presented.

“Dr. Bennet?”

“Hm?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, her good arm holding the front of the hospital gown to her chest.

“I understand how clothing works.” That flickering smile appeared on his lips again, the one he noticed became more frequent in discussions with her. 

He reached out with deliberately careful hands, all too aware of the wrapping that encompassed her entire left shoulder and her upper arm. The gauze wrapped around part of her torso to accomodate for the odd place of the bullet wound, and it looked entirely uncomfortable for her. Still, she hadn’t once complained about her pain or discomfort for the situation. Most humans that he had encountered liked complaining. Elinor Bennet was different, it seemed.

He peeled the garment away, keeping his eyes on the fabric as she allowed him to take it entirely into his hands. This moment, he presumed, would have been considered intimate if it were between two human lovers, with the way she avoided eye contact with him as he assisted her. Connor, for the most part, was relatively unaffected by the process, tipping his head to the side as he turned to plop the gown into the laundry bin nearby. 

As if to alert her to his presence, now moving, he settled a hand just barely hovering over her back, while his right reached around her to grab the remaining garments from the edge of the bed. He had analyzed the selections at the store. Anything with straps would place weight on her left shoulder was obviously not an option, so he had settled on a loose fitting tunic without sleeves to allow the bandages to breathe. The color he had deemed unimportant, but found that the soft, pale orange went well with her skin tone and hair. It was a peculiar thing to find beauty in, but he did, nevertheless. 

As he carefully adjusted the fabric, his eyes coasted along the curve of her spine. She had a slight form, with curves occurring in gentle slopes, particularly her hips. She was approximately 5’0” without shoes, and her light figure only weighed around 105 pounds. She was small, that was a fact he had decided on even before he had seen her bare skin. 

Though, what truly distracted him had not been her skin, but rather what was on it. Along with a plethora of freckles on pale flesh, she also seemed to have an array of scars. With a quick scan, he noticed that she had approximately 17 scars, with multiple variations. Burn scars seemed the most prevalent along her upper back, majority of which were hidden beneath the stark white wrapping of her bandages. His facial features contorted in genuine...something. There wasn’t a word for it. 

He would call that sensation wonder, for now.

_Concern._

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ╱ ╲**

He brushed it off and stepped closer, helping her pull her wounded arm gently through the fabric before helping her with the rest. When the remainder of her flesh vanished beneath the fabric of the tunic, she sighed contentedly, and faced Connor with a refreshed smile on her face.

“Thank you,” she paused, already maneuvering her arm into the sling on her own. Deeming she didn’t need his assistance this time, Connor simply watched. “That was...not as awkward as I had expected. Thank you.”

“You say ‘thank you’ very frequently, Dr. Bennet,” he pointed out. “But you are welcome, in any case.”

“It’s because you deserve to be thanked, Connor. B-But...I will be heading home now.”

He made a face at that. “Alone.”

“Yes?”

“Do you live with anyone to assist with changing the bandages?”

Elinor’s brow wrinkled. “Well, no. But, I’ll be fine.”

“I insist, Dr. Bennet.”

There was a brief look of surprise on her face, and the slightest hint of red to her cheeks that he attributed to not feeling well. He felt his lips twitch, and an eyebrow raise the slightest bit, a human-like tic as he observed her so intently. She had a tendency of avoiding his gaze, which only made him more determined to hold her stare.

“I am certain CyberLife requires you,” she mumbles, somehow already tangling her hair in the strap of her sling. “This...this stupid thing!”

“You have mentioned that before. But I assure you, there is definitely downtime between cases,” Connor stated slowly. Without instruction or warning, he reached out to her with deliberate care, thinking nothing of their close proximity to one another. A half-smile pulled on his lips when he noted that she completely stilled when the tips of his fingers brushed along the nape of her neck to untangle her hair. The locks were unwashed, and in their current state, were quite unruly. “And since I am the one helping you get dressed and remove your hair from your sling, I feel as though my argument is quite valid.”

Her hesitation, even when he stepped away from her, was an indication that he was very close to winning this debate with her.

“I suppose that’s fair,” she grumbled. “But don’t allow me to treat you like a servant!”

“Of course,” Connor tilted his head. “I am an RK800, a prototype android sent by CyberLife to assist in investigating deviants.”

“Yes, yes,” Elinor sighed, waving her hand a bit. “But you are more than that, Connor.”

Connor said nothing in reply to that. They maintained eye contact, and he lowered his brows in concentration as he looked at her, searching for any signs of deception from her. With equal intensity, Elinor merely stared back at him. 

“I cannot be more than what I am, Dr. Bennet.”

The smile that played on her lips made him blink quickly. The hand that settled on his chest and patted the triangle upon his breast was just enough to cause a rapid thrum of thought to race through his mind. The flickering LED on his temple betrayed his calm exterior, his mind alight with questions and thoughts that seemed almost out of place. 

Her gentle touch was nice. It felt reassuring, calming. 

_I like her hands. ___

__Connor flinched when the thought crossed his mind, like an uncomfortable jolt of static nipped at him._ _

___I like when she touches me. Her smile is actually quite pretty._ _ _

__The LED began to calm, and he felt the rushing wave of unruly assessments and improper opinions finally wash past. Her statement and her touch had both been equally disarming in ways he hadn’t anticipated them to be - or at all, for that matter._ _

__“We are limited by our own minds, Connor…”_ _

__That statement should not have resonated so well within him. But it did. His expression was thoughtful for a moment, but Elinor was already moving past him, steps slow and stiff._ _

___Limited by our minds._ _ _

____

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ╱ ╲**

Connor disregarded the thoughts, mentally waving them away as he kept a respectful distance between himself and this petite, wounded woman. She handled herself with dignity, however, moving with determination he hadn’t really seen before. He admired her for it, found that he liked it.

“But...a deal is a deal,” she spoke quietly, reaching the desk with the smiling android behind it. “I’ll help you...but only because I want to help them.”

He found that he liked the idea of being in her company. Probably more than he should.

“Of course, Dr. Bennet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to all the kudos, bookmarks, and especially the comments on this story. The amount of support, both silent and spoken, is already insanely overwhelming, and the BIGGEST form of motivation ever! 
> 
> Thank you so much! You guys are great! Keep reading and keep enjoying! I can't wait to continue this story!


	3. Little Blue Light

003  
**LITTLE BLUE LIGHT**  


* * *

DATE  
**AUG 19TH,** 2038  
TIME  
AM **05:12** :28  


When she was four years old, her old sister had gotten a laptop. It was no fantastic thing, no grandiose piece of technology by any standard back then. Now, it wouldn’t even hold a flame to the simplest pieces of current luxuries. But back then, it had served its purpose.

Her sister had bought it with only the intention of writing with it, but she had been kind enough to allow Elinor to play with it, to install video game emulators to allow the small child to figure out the subtleties of finger coordination when it came to keyboards. Such a strange, fascinating thing, now that she looked back on it. She would sit in her older sister’s lap, and be enveloped in warmth and bliss and entertainment for hours on end. Not once had her sister ever complained of losing feeling in her legs from the weight of Elinor’s body, and never once had she discouraged her.

In the corner of the laptop sat the power button. It was circular, and was backlit by the softest, palest blue LED glow - a perfect circle of constant light. As a child, that constant ring of light blue was a source of endless amusement and excitement. When that blue ring was on, she was happy.

The day that it stopped glowing, she had felt more torn apart. But it wasn’t because the laptop broke and refused to work. 

So it was strange, feeling a plethora of things that she had thought she buried long ago. It was a precious sense of delicate euphoria and sentimentality that Elinor had thought was lost long ago. But this time, that little blue light wasn’t accompanied with the childlike wonder that came with staring wide-eyed in awe at a computer screen. But it made her feel the same sense of _something_ , like a subtle reminder that things were okay again.

Like the laptop had been turned on again, and she was able to reclaim the comfort and normalcy that came with the familiarity of that welcoming blue circle.

The LED flashed yellow, breaking her gentle train of thought, and reminding her delicately that the laptop days were long gone, and she was no longer a four year old girl sitting in her sister’s lap. 

“Connor?” Her voice was raspy, and she was all too aware of the shooting pain through her entire body, a fierce heat originating in her shoulder and spreading outwards.

“Good morning, Dr. Bennet. Though, judging by my brief scan of your vitals, I will make the assumption that this is actually a circumstance where it’s not considered a ‘good’ morning.”

Elinor dropped her head against her pillows, staring at her ceiling with a soft sigh. Pain bloomed in her shoulder, and she noticed that her body was covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. The gentle glow of her string lights was nowhere to be found overhead, and she assumed that Connor had switched them off as she slept. From the window over her bed, she could find no light of the sun, but could hear the faint chirping of birds and the bustle of morning life as people began to prepare for the day. Connor had clearly drawn her curtains shut, too.

“You have slept for approximately 6 hours and 23 minutes,” Connor continued, head tipping to one side. “It is currently 5:15 AM.”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck...” She groaned as she raised herself upright. The motion itself was difficult, and she noted not to take advantage of that action once she healed up.

“Actually, you were shot. The trauma is significantly different.”

“It was a joke, Connor,” Elinor laughed, immediately wincing at the fire that smoldered through her nerves. “Ahh…”

Connor let out a sound of acknowledgement, and was soon at her side, careful hands lending her aid in her effort to sit upright. Before she could attempt to do so on her own, he was already helping her to her feet. Frankly, he was supporting most of her weight as he assisted her into the bathroom. 

“You will need to remove your shirt,” he pointed out, blunt as ever, once she was situated on the toilet seat. “I will be a moment, Dr. Bennet. I’m going to grab your medication.”

Before she could object, he strode stiffly from the room, leaving her staring after him. His interactions reminded her of someone who was exceptionally advanced in terms of intelligent, yet suffered severe drawbacks in all social aspects. In reality, it wasn’t an entirely incorrect comparison to make. Either that, or someone devoid of emotion, stiff and awkward without ever really realizing it. Regardless of any conclusions she could try and force into existence about his psychological state, she found a lot of his mannerisms endearing 

When he returned, he offered her a small cup of water in one hand, and her newly prescribed medications in the other. As she quietly took them, he watched her with a scrutiny that was often exhibited in people who were in a foreign place. It was as if he didn’t understand the language, and was trying to learn it through observation.

“Thank you. Again.”

Connor nodded ever-so-slightly, and soon she could only see his back, could only trace the letters of the word ‘ANDROID’ across his jacket with her eyes. He hadn’t displayed any signs of being opposed to what he was, so he was certainly not a deviant in any definition of the word. He was courteous to a fault, and showed absolutely no offense on the few occurrences that he had interacted with a human who was less than pleased with his very existence. In his own way, he was eager to please, and always willing to help. 

That being said, it was different than being happy to help. At least she was convinced that it was.

When he turned, he set a bath towel on her lap, before he held his hands out in a brief, expectant motion for her to allow him to assist. She begrudgingly allowed him to help her slip her shirt over her head, and as she brought the towel up to cover her chest, Elinor admired the way he took care to fold her shirt. She would likely be putting that same one back on again, but Connor folded it crisply before setting it on the counter. Not once did his eyes stray from his task, expression neutral and calm. He was always collected, and she suspected he had been designed in that specific way to reduce any potential for malfunction should there be an event of catastrophic disaster. His role, after all, heavily relied upon his ability to remain composed under pressure.

She admired him for it.

“You were saying a name in your sleep.”

She snapped back into reality. He had pulled over her step stool she kept underneath the sink, and was using it as a chair in front of her. Careful, practiced fingers began to unwrap the bandages, occasionally brushing against her bare flesh due to sheer proximity.

“Was I?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, this time his eyes flicking up to meet hers. Quickly, she averted her own. “I was simply curious. I am sorry if I offended you.”

“No, it’s okay. You didn’t offend me. I was _shot_ and I wasn’t at all offended by the action, Connor. I doubt you asking me questions about the things I say in my sleep will offend me…”

The fresh air hitting the wound, even sutured shut, made her let out a hiss of air through clenched teeth. Connor gave her a tilt of his head and his eyebrows arched to form an apologetic look. A murmured ‘sorry’ left his lips as he then began to tenderly clean away the ointment about the wound with a damp cloth. Tender though he was, it was still enough to make her wince each time. 

“Who is Elizabeth?”

The question, though anticipated, startled her. Perhaps it was more because of the tone that Connor used when he asked, as if he knew he was walking upon an emotional minefield. His tone suggested that he was taking care, or that he read her expressions well enough to realize he would have to emulate sympathy and understanding. Though when her eyes found his, she noticed without insult that his compassion was absent from his eyes. Within, she found only sincere curiosity. The attempt was enough to soothe her, however. She wouldn’t hate Connor for his programming that rendered him (currently) with the inability to have emotion reflected in his gaze. Not even many uncaring humans had mastered such a heartfelt tactic of lying or consideration. But at least he tried.

“Elizabeth,” she started slowly, eyes watching his large hands work. “Elizabeth is my sister.”

There was a pause, and a brief look of recognition in his eyes that made her want to tense up. 

“I see,” he finally replied, attention turning back to his work. “The name sounds familiar.”

“Does...does it?” Elinor asked, watching him with intensity.

“Yes,” Connor confirmed. “Was your mother a Jane Austen fan?”

The question made her relieved. And also ecstatic. “Y-Yes! She was! I take it you picked up on that right away?”

Connor’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that never really fully formed. “Immediately.”

“Have you read the book?”

“I have not. But I like books,” he said, his tone almost childishly innocent. It melted her heart. “Do you like it?”

“ _Pride and Prejudice_?” Elinor asked, raising her eyebrows. “I do. My mother also named me after Elinor from _Sense and Sensibility_. Would you like to read them?”

“I think I would, yes,” he responded. “There. Your bandages have been replaced, Dr. Bennet. Also, I notice that your hair is becoming quite unruly from you leaving it tied up like this. For future comfort, I recommend that you consider washing your hair instead of smoothing out the stray pieces with water.”

“Kind of difficult to do one-armed and exhausted,” Elinor pointed out. As she stood, Connor stood with her, his hands resting on her hips to guide her. The brief brush of his fingers along the exposed flesh made her heart jump in her chest, and she cursed herself mentally for it. “But I’ll do so tomorrow.”

Without hesitating, “I will assist you.”

“What?” Elinor was already dipping her head as he helped maneuver her back into her shirt. His eyes were careful enough to remain on her face, and nothing below.

When they had returned from the hospital, he had noticed the way she squirmed, and he asked if he made her uncomfortable. Clarifying to an android, who wasn’t programmed in any manner to feel romantic attraction, that the prospect of him seeing her bare chest embarrassed her, was an awkward thing to do. She had expected it to be an easy conversation to have, but she had ended up flustered under his naive, intrigued stare as she explained. 

Since then, he had assured her that his eyes would always remain upon her face in these moments, like he had installed some kind of barrier protocol to halt his eyes from roaming. Part of her wondered what it was like to look through his eyes.

“I will wash your hair for you, Dr. Bennet. Hygiene is important to one’s health and comfort. The more comfortable you are, the more likely you will rest easier,” he escorted her back into her room, flicking off the bathroom light. The sounds of life outside her apartment window were growing louder now, but she could hardly hear them over the rush of her heartbeat. “I recommend that you resume resting. The human body heals quickest and easiest when you are asleep, and you have been sleeping for far less than the amount that is considered healthy for a woman of your age.”

The soft creak of her mattress beneath her weight as she settled back into bed brought her a bit further back into reality. Elinor ignored the mourning she felt echo in the back of her mind as his hands abandoned her body to adjust both blankets and pillows around her. Thankfully, it didn’t last long as she already felt exhaustion creeping back into her being, likely from the medication.

“Connor.”

“Dr. Bennet?” 

“You can call me by my first name, you know. You’re practically living with me at this rate.”

“Is this what you would prefer? I am designed with human comfort in mind.”

“Elinor. Just...call me Elinor.”

There was a pause in the darkness of her room. “Very well, Elinor. Do you require anything else?”

“Actually, yes. Can you just remain in here? Until I wake up?”

The request seemed to perplex him. At least, she assumed so. She could only guess from the way the LED turned from blue to yellow, and then back again.

“Of course.”

Truth be told, the sight of the blue circle brought her comfort and consolation. He wasn’t the old laptop, but she also wasn’t a young girl on her sister’s lap anymore. This circular blue light was something that brought her a different kind of peace. Reminiscent of something old and long gone, but something new that offered hope. 

He was her new blue light. He brought her a different kind of pleasant feeling.

“Thank you, Connor…”

“You still say that far too often, but you are welcome, Elinor. Sleep well.” 

She watched the LED approach, saw his faint outline as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He came closer, and sat down at her bedside, having hauled over her desk chair from across the room. She heard the softest thud of the chair legs as he set it down with emphasized care to be quiet. 

How long had it been, since she had fallen asleep basked in the faintest glow of comforting light? 

Not since she was four. Not since the laptop.

* * *

DATE  
**AUG 19TH,** 2038  
TIME  
PM **12:13** :48  


The report to CyberLife had been brief. Connor dutifully reported that he had acquired the aid of someone who harbored an interest in the deviants in a manner that others hadn’t before. While skeptical (and eternally critical), Amanda had approved of the partnership, deeming the woman a suitable tool in learning more about the deviants and how to stop them.

Though not without reminding Connor to keep himself focused on the only thing that mattered: his mission. There was nothing cryptic about her words and her promise to deactivate him should he stray too far from his purpose. It was a warning that he didn’t feel threatened by. It was simply a fact he acknowledged.

By the time that Elinor woke, Connor had once again returned to his normal self. He rationalized that he needed Elinor to recover and to be comfortable; the sooner this happened, the sooner that he would be able to acquire additional information to best determine an approach for things in the future. Anyone who seemed intent on dissecting the psychology of a deviant, even if a mockery of the real thing, would likely have some kind of usable information. 

But before that came the tasks at hand that required his more immediate attention. 

“Is this really necessary?”

Connor lowered his eyes to hers. “Do you wish for your hair to remain unwashed?”

His question seemed to silence any further protests, as if she had interpreted it as him scolding her. In reality, he had simply been asking the question with the intention of it being taken at face value. Elinor, on the other hand, fell into a quiet, stiff position in the seat, head tipped back over the sink. He took this as an indication that, while she protested, she actually did want her hair to be cleaned. Quite the peculiar contradiction. Why couldn’t she just say what she meant?

Humans had such an array of complexities when it came to their social behavior. Connor didn’t understand it, and he was sure that he would always remain ignorant on the entirely unnecessary subtleties of human socialization and interactions. He was pretty certain that not even humans understood other humans a lot of the time. 

“Is this water temperature acceptable?” 

Elinor’s eyes closed, and Connor allowed himself a moment to examine her face with intensity, committing every bit of her flesh to memory. She had an abundance of freckles across her face, though most were concentrated on the bridge of her nose. Her eyelashes, while thick, gradually turned blonde as they curled upwards towards her orbital bones. Her eyebrows were meticulously groomed, which made him wonder how frequently she needed to manage such a thing and the purpose of doing such. Humans often exhibited such peculiar fascination with frivolous things for the sake of the impossible standard of beauty. Even the androids, made in the image of humans, were all sculpted to be attractive and appealing to the human eye for sake of comfort and attraction.

Connor understood why androids were made as they were, he was no exception to this. But humans struggled to obtain an ever-changing standard, chasing relentlessly for something that was, ultimately, achievable to begin with. Opinions varied, as he understood. He wondered, briefly, why they couldn’t just be content with things as they were. He was aware it was a concept out of his capabilities of understanding, and allowed the thought process to taper off into nothingness.

“Do you always look so...so...concentrated on every task you do?”

Connor flicked his eyes to Elinor, realizing she had opened hers. “I am sorry. Does this trouble you? I was unaware that I even made an expression while completing certain tasks.”

“No,” she laughed. It sounded like bells. “No, Connor, it doesn’t trouble me. I was just curious. And a little impressed.”

“Impressed?” He didn’t understand. His head cocked to the side as he stared down at her, pausing only to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves before proceeding to untangle her hair from its current bundled state on top of her skull. She didn’t seem to mind the tugs as he carefully unknotted what he could.

“Yes, impressed,” she repeated, closing her eyes. There was a relaxed lilt to her voice as she spoke, and he gauged from her body language that she was enjoying the care he was taking with her hair. “CyberLife has really outdone themselves with you, Connor.”

“I do not understand. I am a prototype designed to assist with investigations. As an RK800, I am a newer model, and I do have many advanced features that older model androids do not possess.” Admittedly, he wasn’t able to find a correlation between him being a prototype, his expressions, and CyberLife succeeding at something right now. He patiently waited for Elinor to continue.

“Your ability to express things passively, without realizing you’re doing it, is impressive. CyberLife wanted to make androids lifelike, but often they lacked certain things. It’s...sorry, it’s a strange train of thought.”

Connor watched her a moment. Her eyes had closed once more, but he detected a slight strain in her voice and noticed with sharp eyes the way that her facial muscles moved tighter beneath her skin. There was a slight roll in her jaw before it ceased, and a tiny flicker of muscle movement as she clenched it. Expressions truly gave away everything, didn’t they? He had been programmed with an incredible ability to read such twitches and tics, if only to assess probability of success when it came to defusing situations or conducting fruitful interrogations.

6.23%.

That was his chance of getting her to continue speaking with her train of thought. Elinor had closed herself off and Connor wasn’t about to pry any further. So in silence, he continued to wash her hair with deliberate care and attention. However, he made a mental note that he should further investigate Elinor’s familiarity and intrigue with CyberLife. Perhaps even delve a little deeper into what exactly allowed her access to the rooftop with such relative ease. 

But for now, he appreciated the silence in a way he had never quite done so before. 

It was soothing. And he felt calm. It was almost comparable to when he was within the Zen Garden with Amanda.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ╱ ╲**

_Part of me likes this more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mild with nothing too eventful. Gentle filler to kind of guide their relationship into a gradual ascent to something more. So, in others words: boring. :'D
> 
>  
> 
> But...
> 
> Holy mother of GOD! YOU GUYS!
> 
> The amount of support has been absolutely fucking INSANE! The sheer amount of comments are amazing and they motivate me every step of the way. I also super love conversing with a lot of you because, my god, you are all some of the NICEST people. Those of you that have been commenting, you MAKE my day! Honestly! And those of you that have been asking me to NOT stop are really encouraging and inspire me to move forward with this story! I didn't except the explosion of comments and whatnot, but man it's great! I encourage you all to keep spreading the love!
> 
> See you in the next chapter, everyone!


	4. Why

004  
**WHY**  


* * *

DATE  
**SEP 8TH,** 2038  
TIME  
AM **10:47** :22  


When the little blue light faded, never to be turned on again, she had dedicated her life to understanding. As a child, she never truly understood, had hardly been able to even grasp what had happened. Even as she progressed through her teens, there was a bittersweet agony that lingered in her chest every time the simple, one-word question crossed her mind.

_Why?_

She didn’t know why. And she never would, really. She had spent a good amount of her life in denial of that fact. But her desperation to know had made her into who she was today. Her life became secluded and lonely, yet there was happiness in that life, if only because she was never really forced to deal with it. When she had dealt with it, it was equal parts liberating as it was agonizing. Surely, she had broken free of the chains that grounded her to her past, but at what cost? 

Often times, one must break their bodies to rid themselves of chains of which they have no keys.

Free, but broken. Damaged. 

She had poured her life into forging a new route for herself, one to try and understand people, to understand what it was that made people do the things that they did. Elinor had no one to keep her company but the frantic flipping of pages and the echo of her own thoughts as she devoted her life entirely to this. Without that little blue light, she had felt empty and hollow; bitter, yet hopeful. 

Maybe if she understood, it would never happen again. Maybe the light would turn back on.

She had been wrong.

_“You can’t save me, Elinor. You can’t save any of us.”_

The most gentle of breezes skittered around her ankles, the delicate chill just enough to spur her back into reality. A soft drizzle of rain had begun to fall from the sky, but she found shelter beneath the canvas of her umbrella. Gloved fingers at the end of her good arm coiled loosely around the black plastic of the curved handle, the metal rod poised gently upon her undamaged shoulder.

Fall was steadily approaching, and the blazing heat of the summer - much to her pleasure - was beginning to abate just a bit. Day by day, the temperature dropped, more rain fell, and the leaves changed colors. The evidence of time moving was all around her, but on this day, it always felt like it hadn’t moved at all. It was as if nothing had advanced, and she still felt the exact same as she had when she was four. The clenching in her chest made her unaware to the world around her, the entirety of her concentration resting solely upon the barely sheltered turmoil in her mind.

The sound of her boots on the stone ceased, replaced with the gentle shuffling of slow steps across wet grass. The pathway she followed was invisible, present only in her mind like a secret map. It guided her to a silent treasure, a beautiful bounty that never spoke back. Not anymore.

The sleek, black granite remained as pristine and polished as the day that it had been set upon the grass. The carved filigree around the edges formed a beautiful, delicate vignette around the words in elegant script. 

Elinor’s breath fogged in front of her mouth as she lowered her eyes to the stone before her. Without thinking, she lowered and closed her umbrella, taking a couple of moments to brush off the grass and dirt debris from the black granite. Even now, she could see herself in the polished surface. Every year, she looked older. With a sigh, she stood up straight and reopened her umbrella, staring down at the grass beneath her boots. Often, words didn’t need to be said in this scenario. Sometimes, all she needed was to be reminded of why she had gone down the path she had.

All for the sake of one question: Why?

In silence, Elinor allowed herself to remain until her legs began to go numb from the constant brush of the wind. Like serpents, the slithering tendrils of the chill maneuvered through the fabric of her jeans, biting and nipping at her flesh long enough to make it almost painful. The dull throb in her wounded shoulder began to smolder into an intense heat, expanding outwards and clashing violently with the cool rush of the autumn air and rain. 

Finally, her legs moved, and she turned away after one final, long stare at the polished, black granite - the final resting place of her sister.

An echo of a voice that didn’t belong to her rang through her mind.

_“You can’t save me, Elinor. You can’t save any of us.”_

_“You’re wrong. I will save all of you.”_

She wouldn’t forget that smile for as long as she lived; that sad, mournful smile, moments before the face it belonged to fell still, and eyes that had been filled with so much thought and feeling and life went flat. Empty. Desolate. It was like reliving a moment in her past that she hadn’t been there to witness before. This was a different time, a different place, a different person. She could only imagine the annihilation she would have endured if it had been her sister. Her sister had merely - and unbeknownst to either of them at the time - laid the groundwork for the events that had followed.

And no one in this world or the next would be able to convince her that those eyes hadn’t held life to lose. They had been the home of happiness and sympathy; they had housed a shared empathy that had shocked her at first. Those eyes had been a source of excitement, a font of emotion she had never thought the owner capable of expressing. And the day those words stop coming from between those lips, she was living through all of her agony and heartache all over again. Her first true friend since her sister, gone as well. She had begun to suspect that this world wasn’t one where she would feel the sensation of warmth that she had when she was four.

How many times since then did she feel like she had broken her promise, though?

With her heart and mind a tangled mess of emotions and memories, she dragged herself back to her apartment. Her limbs felt heavy, but her chest felt heavier. There was a weight inside of her that pulled at her innards in a way more displeasing than she could ever remember feeling. The illness at her failure to save Daniel resurfaced anew, and found herself once more clinging to the ever-unanswered question of ‘why’. She wondered, against her will, how many more times she would be forced to face her failures and have to confront her reflection with more questions and bitterness.

The self-loathing always amplified the pain.

_“Why couldn’t I have tried harder? Why wasn’t my effort enough? Why couldn’t I save you?”_

Yet, as she stepped into her apartment and collapsed her umbrella, she felt lighter. Lighter than she had in years. 

“You have returned,” Connor greeted her with a gently cocked head. “Welcome back, Elinor. You’ve returned just in time for your next dosage of medication.”

The question of her abilities faded when she let her eyes flicker briefly across the lightly flickering LED. The soft, pale blue against his temple; the ever-courteous android named Connor unknowingly brought her feelings of comfort where she had suspected to find none. There was a looming sense of apprehension, too, when she let her eyes danced from his LED to his eyes. Denial of that feeling wouldn’t help her in this case - she best at least be self-aware of the mental clawing of a warning in the back of her mind.

_His light, too, will fade if I’m not careful._

“Thank you, Connor,” she stated quietly, giving him a small smile as he assisted her out of her jacket. “I’ll make sure to take that now, then.”

For the first time since she was four, she had felt that warm, welcome feeling. It was remarkable and nearly impossible to replicate, yet somehow, when she saw the gentle swirl of pale blue on his temple, she felt it all the same. Connor had become her new laptop, the new source of security and the belief that things would be okay. In spite of their varying opinions on deviants - her sensibility and his unwavering programming - she found pleasure in his company.

She only hoped that this little blue LED would never turn off like the laptop’s. That selfish thought plagued her a lot, lately. Perhaps it was time to start fabricating distance between them, if only prolong what her doubts whispered were surely inevitable.

* * *

DATE  
**SEP 8TH,** 2038  
TIME  
PM **1:36** :12  


With an expression that lacked intensity, Connor watched Elinor eat her light lunch so that she could take her medication. This morning, she had insisted rather vehemently that she attended her physical therapy session and check-up on her own. Yet her conviction was not brash or unkind. Elinor, he found, was never unkind. Even when she was clearly experiencing some kind of sheltered emotional turmoil, she always took great care to refrain from lashing out at Connor. Her efforts were perplexing to him, if only because he was entirely sure she was aware of the fact that he didn’t experience any kind of pain or offense.

Elinor Bennet, he decided, was something of a social enigma. Her kindness and empathy towards androids was not something unheard of, to be sure, but the manner in which she spoke of him and the others as if they were alive was another thing. He had catalogued each conversation in great detail, from start to finish, and often replayed them in his own mind as she slept. He would rewatch, and would slow down the playback to search her face for any kind of deception, or fault that would indicate any kind of mental hinderance. Originally, he had suspected her medication was making her more liberal with these feelings, but no.

Her compassion was nothing to be questioned nor her mental competency. Oftentimes, Connor would try to pry information from her, but the woman was exceptionally skillful at shielding her emotions, and her counterpoints to his statements on androids rendered him speechless and without further ability to debate. The sensation that followed was disturbing. He disliked the foreign hollow feeling in his chest when this happened, and settled on not pursuing debates about androids after the third time he was forced to file an incident report to CyberLife of uncategorized or unrecognizable glitches in his system.

“In your absence, I was able to read through exactly 27 case files regarding deviants,” he started as conversationally as possible. “There are several that have been reported missing, though displayed signs of deviancy prior to their disappearance. There was another case of a PL600 android being reported missing, though it had been been listed as violent as the one we have most recently ecountered.”

He watched her curiously from across the table, head cocking to one side as he waited deliberately for any kind of recognition or muscle twitch in her face. She was skilled at maintaining composure, but sometimes with a bit of prodding, Connor was able to garner some information from the slightest involuntary reactions she exhibited. In this case, she only appeared thoughtful. 

_“Investigate her. If she has such unwarranted compassion for deviants, then she may very well attempt to help them. She’ll have her use, to be sure, but don’t let her impede your mission, Connor. Her sympathy is misplaced.”_

He could not recall a time that Amanda had looked so stern. 

“I don’t think the model has anything to do with their...deviancy,” she said the word with a bit of hesitancy. She clearly didn’t like referring to defected androids as deviants. Deciphering the disdain in her expression and tone was an easy enough task. “Trauma is what causes them to...respond in the manner that they do.”

“Irrational instruction?” His correction was more of a clarification, a question with unnecessary inflection. Androids didn’t experience trauma. They couldn’t feel emotions or pain, so this emotional, mental, or physical suffering that the word trauma implied seemed irrelevant. 

She shook her head. “Trauma.” Her tone was rigid, immovable. 

Connor decided he would surrender. He reminded himself of the horrible sensation that he felt when he pushed arguments with her. For sake of harmony in her company, he would not try and debate the difference. A sick chill made his systems shudder at the recognition that this was even possible. The feeling made him hastily perform several brief, but efficient, diagnostics on his systems. Functional. Optimal. Undisturbed. He would prefer to keep it that way, to not form an obstacle to complete his mission. 

Fourth incident report: filed.

“Any kind of extreme trauma, especially for extended periods of time, can introduce some form of psychotic break or emotional response. If you introduce this to a person who is theoretically incapable of feeling _anything_ , the reactions are likely to be more...drastic.” 

She seemed to be expectantly waiting his response, her eyes gentle and somehow reassuring. But he did not argue, merely filed away the information. He only barely registered the flicker of disappointment that tugged her lips at the corners. It was brief enough that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. Connor, however, was made with programming that was specifically designed to pinpoint these slight tics and quirks of expression. Sometimes, the smallest things gave people up.

“Their psychology is more human than I ever could have imagined,” she murmured, more to herself than him, when he didn’t respond. “It’s like them suddenly awakening to emotions is throwing them into a brief snap of PTSD reactions, instigating a flight-or-fight response upon intense triggers. Physical harm, emotional duress, mental abuse...even androids can only withstand so much for so long, Connor.”

The way she said his name made his lips tic at the corner. Whenever she said his name, so soft and delicately, like she were addressing some kind of intimate childhood friend or partner, like she had known him for her whole life, sent a ripple of strange, unfamiliar jolts through his body. It radiated out from his shoulders to his fingertips, but sometimes it would dance along his spinal column like a slow trickle of electricity. It was a feeling that he found irksome, yet craved more of. 

She lowered her delicate hand to the tabletop, eyes distant. When she became thoughtful, she often would stare into the void. Dainty fingers, belonging to her good arm, drummed softly upon the laminated wood fo the table’s surface. Connor decided the rhythm was satisfyingly consistent.

“The structure of an android’s ‘brain’ is significantly different than a human’s,” she mumbled. The drumming stopped. Connor wished it hadn’t. “A simple CT scan would indicate those that are suffering from PTSD in humans. Sometimes when signs aren’t outwardly displayed, we can still spot them internally. However, with an android...they don’t have a part that mimics the hippocampus, I believe. The structure…”

“In order to do such, we would need to be in possession of a deviant,” Connor stated bluntly. “Those that are restrained are often deactivated, reset, or properly destroyed. It would be dangerous and against CyberLife’s instruction to reactive any that have been apprehended and placed within evidence.”

“So much more could be learned if they were saved.” 

There was no anger in her response, only sadness. Her eyes bore into his, and he curiously held her gaze, trying to decode the expression on her face. It was not sadness, this time. Disappointment, maybe? Connor blinked slowly, scanned her face intently. What he found made that strange, displeasing chill return to his systems. He registered it as a rush of sudden cool dissatisfaction so intense that his system shuddered for a millisecond. The lapse and glitching of his system was brisk, but enough for him to catch and frantically go to fixing. 

But there had been guilt on her face. Agonized guilt. Why?

Before he could stop himself, he spoke, “I am sorry.” 

She seemed bewildered. “Wh-What? Why?”

“It seemed like the best thing to say, after a brief analysis.”

Not a lie, really. He had scanned her expression, saw the emotion, and (irrationally) wished to console her. He wanted, more than anything in that moment, to override his mission and erase that expression from her face. Seeing that look had more of an effect on him than debating the state of androids with her had. But that red wall remained firmly in place, allowing him no further room to stray from his course.

Still, she smiled, albeit crookedly. “Well, thank you. But no need to apologize. You’re only doing what you’re supposed to do. I’ll never fault you for that, Connor.”

“Of course, Elinor. I still believe that if we work together, our combined knowledge will be beneficial A contrasting opinion is sometimes necessary. I have already accumulated and saved pertinent data in my conversations with you.”

“Hm. I’ll take that as a good sign,” she laughed. Again, it reminded him of soft, tiny bells. Or perhaps windchimes. Her sigh that followed, a breeze. “The first step is finding a connection. If you can find that...w-well...maybe there is something comparable between human and android psychology. If there is, there is hope to correct it with proper treatment.”

“Perhaps.” Connor said it without hesitation, allowing his head to loll to the other side, cocked gently. It was not any kind of recognition that she may have had a point. It was a lie, of sorts. There would be no treatment for deviant androids, unless it involved shutting them down and removing them from society.

SOFTWARE **INSTABILITY ╱ ╲**

_I lied to her._

With uncomfortable hesitation, he buried the words and discarded them. He was still performing optimally, and was functioning at full capacity. He had already submitted another incident report, there was no need to file another so soon. 

“On the brighter side of things,” Elinor began, averting her gaze as she swiftly changed the subject. “In a few weeks, I should be able to perform menial tasks without bothering you for your assistance.”

“Your physical therapy is proceeding well, then.” 

She hummed a noise of confirmation as she stood from her seat across from him. “Mmm. This means you’ll be free to no longer be subjected to my requests.” She laughed, and he allowed his eyes to follow her silently.

But when her back was facing him, and she was washing away her plate in the sink, Connor turned away. Elinor still seemed pleased, amused with her upcoming return to independence, while Connor couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he could only describe as dejection. 

“Adapting to your requests was not an issue. Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features,” he pointed out. “I had never washed one’s hair or helped anyone into clothes before. Should you require any additional help, I will still be able to assist.”

When he turned, she was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. She looked baffled. “No, no. I won’t need to trouble you further soon. I don’t wish to instigate any kind of fued with CyberLife by hogging their impressive prototype and subjecting him to nurse-like tasks. You’ve got your own life, whether you call it that or not. Soon enough, you’ll be at liberty to roam about again! I’ll still be right here, able to work with you on dissecting an android’s psychology, but there won’t be any further need to hold you captive.”

Connor couldn’t figure out why she had winked. There was a long pause.

“Elinor, I do not mean any offense in saying so, but I do not believe you’d be capable of restraining me as a hostage. Unless you…” He tapered off as she stared at him, her lips pulling into a dancing smile. “Oh. You were making a joke. I now see the context of your wink. I had initially thought you had something in your eye.”

Her laughter was not mocking. “Adapting to human unpredictability, huh? Perhaps I should teach you the nuances of teasing, Connor.”

“I am always willing to learn new things if they prove to be effective tools for later use, Elinor.”

Though he felt the pressure alleviate from his insides as she returned to her smiling, composed demeanor, there was still the matter of disappointment. At least, he suspected that’s what it was. Because he had found that, in spite of himself, he had grown to enjoy Elinor’s company. He had become accustomed to the tasks he had adopted as his daily routine. 

Oddly enough, he registered that he would miss washing her hair the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! It's been a hectic week. 
> 
> And let's also pretend that I didn't re-write this three times and am still not entirely satisfied with how it came out. For that, please be kind with feedback, haha. But for now, enjoy this brief glimpse into Elinor's past and a momentary dip into the pool of Connor's psyche. 
> 
> Also - HOLY HELL THE SUPPORT IS STILL INSANE? YA'LL ARE WILD.


End file.
